


Lovesick

by Styfas



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Awkward Crush, Ficlet, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29201181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Styfas/pseuds/Styfas
Summary: Georgie Chambers has a crush on Mr. Goodsir and thinks about ways he could  get the man to touch him.  For starters.Terror Bingo:  Authority Kink(What happens next is revealed as a diversional backstory in the storyA Sweet Enterprise).
Kudos: 6
Collections: The Terror Bingo





	Lovesick

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was "authority kink" - and I used it rather loosely here. As the Terror Bingo Admins say, "...you're welcome to interpret all of these prompts as literally or figuratively as you want! They're just meant to give you some inspiration." So, to me, this is like a "starting point." 
> 
> As always, I thank [Drac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drac), who introduced me to The Terror in the first place, and support me by reading (not exactly beta reading, but "filtering" - if that makes sense) my supposed final versions of fics. 🧡 
> 
> Disclaimers: I don't/didn't know George Chambers or Harry Goodsir, RIP to both. 💔 I don't know either "character" as realized in AMC The Terror. Those characters belong to AMC, producers, directors, actors, and anyone else who had anything to do with that TV programme.
> 
> This is fiction - and I am making not one red cent from it.

Two weeks ago Georgie complained of gastritis – and there was no touching.

Last week, a headache; the same.

He wonders what malady he should feign this week. Whatever it is, it needs to be something that would involve Mr. Goodsir touching him to reach a diagnosis.

At age twenty-six, Mr. Goodsir’s almost a third older than him – but he’s not _old_ old; nowhere near Sir-John old, or Mr.-Wall old. Besides, when you’re a ship’s boy of eighteen, anyone on the ship is an “older man.” Only eight years’ difference between them; that’s not so much, really. It’s not like Mr. Goodsir’s old enough to be his father; more like an older brother. An older, sexually experienced brother…

All Georgie knows is that he could listen to that soothing light baritone voice all day – while wondering if, under the right circumstances, it might become a lustful growl at night. He could willingly fall under the spell of those big brown eyes – and that voice – and be rendered capable of all manner of subservience. And oh, how he’d love to run his hands through that hair. With that thick hair, and those full sideburns, Mr. Goodsir must have plenty of hair on his chest, his stomach, his abdomen, trailing delightfully downward and leading to…

So… a sore throat? The man would likely feel his neck for swollen glands. That would be nice. He’d assuredly ask him to open his mouth so he could check even closer. Mr. Goodsir’s mouth so close to his? Those warm eyes scrutinizing him? Heaven. Yes, a sore throat would work. If not this week, then next… 

Should it be a rash on the chest for today? Even better. He’d do his best to make it look like a struggle to get his shirt off, and then he’d ask for help. Mmm… being undressed by Mr. Goodsir… Oh God, yes. Georgie might be fortunate enough – if he doesn’t faint first – to feel the man’s fleeting touch against his arms and his back. Next, he’d watch the man’s eyes inspecting his smooth chest and firm, pink nipples. But then it would be Mr. Goodsir touching him wherever Georgie says the rash is – and saying, “I’m sorry, but I don’t seem to detect a rash, Chambers,” and Georgie saying, “I don’t understand, Sir… It was there earlier this morning, I swear it…” 

In which case, maybe not…

Urinary problems, then? No, no, no. Too much, too soon. But maybe in the future…

Or he could just tell the truth. He could bring up the sleeplessness and loss of appetite he’s been experiencing for the last three weeks. For those symptoms, Georgie has already diagnosed himself: he’s lovesick, and he desires treatment that only Mr. Goodsir can give; the type that doesn’t come in bottles, pastilles, salves, or plasters.

But nothing can happen if he continues to linger outside the sick bay. He’ll need to walk in, decide in the moment what to do, and see where it leads.

Not to appear too bold, Georgie simply peers inside and sees Mr. Goodsir seated at a table, reading a book. There are no patients to been seen. “Excuse me, Mr. Goodsir?”

Mr. Goodsir looks up and crinkles his mouth into a small smile. And his eyes; there’s definitely more sparkle in them than when Georgie first looked inside the sick bay. He closes his book and stands up. “And what is it _this_ week, Chambers?” he asks in a gentle lilt.

Is it possible that the man has discerned the real reason for this visit? All right, then – might as well go all out. “Mr. Goodsir,” he blurts out, “I seem to have a rash on my chest…” 

“I see. Have a seat on the examination table. I’ll help you off with your shirt and then I’ll have a good look at your chest.” 

This is going even better than Georgie had hoped. No need to pretend to struggle with his shirt after all.

“Unless you propose to continue standing there looking dumbstruck,” Mr. Goodsir adds in a satin voice, never losing the sparkle in his eyes.

“No, Sir. I mean _Yes_ , Sir… ” Obeying the older man’s command, Georgie dashes to the table and sits, facing him.

“Good. I’m going to slide the door closed so we can have some privacy. Will you be comfortable with that, Chambers?”

Comfortable? Thrilled is more like it. “Yes, Sir,” he says, eagerly unbuttoning his shirt.

Mr. Goodsir nods, closes the door, and slowly approaches with a genial smile. “Now, let’s see about lowering your braces and removing your shirt, shall we?”

“Yes, Sir.” 

Georgie is all optimism. With his shirt off, he won’t be half-clothed before Mr. Goodsir; he’ll be half- _naked_. And when the man gets close enough to have that good look at his chest, Georgie will steal a kiss. It'll be the boldest move he’ll make today – but sometimes a man must be bold to get what he wants. Or _who_ he wants. After that, he’ll return to a more submissive mode: _Yes, Sir… With pleasure, Sir… Whatever you want, Sir…_

And at tonight’s follow-up visit, he’ll finally be able to utter the words he’s been longing to say for weeks: _Please teach me, Mr. Goodsir._

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Georgie. ❤ (But he and Goodsir will show up in a subsequent fic - in a backstory-ish way - and possibly in another fic after that one.)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
